


Fire Burning Brightly

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: “We are going to make bread,” Bittle smiled, lifting her to stand on a chair at the table and putting a bowl in front of her.  With barely a movement of his hand, water, sugar, and yeast measured itself out into the bowl.  Bittle put his hands over the bowl.  “Ok Ronnie, put your hands on mine.  Don’t try to make the explodey feeling yourself but see if you can feel it in my hands and how I’m pushing it into the water.”Ronnie did as he asked and Jack’s heart clenched at the look of wonder and excitement on her face.“I feel it!” she squealed.  The kitchen light exploded and mixture in the bowl foamed over the edge and shot like a geyser into the air.Jack's daughter has gifts he couldn't possibly understand and that she can't control.  He hires her a magical tutor, one Eric Richard Bittle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Check Please Big Bang 2018. Art is by @randomnoteforfuturereference and is found [ here.](http://randomnoteforfuturereference.tumblr.com/post/180248495034/my-omgcpbigbang2018-contribution-for-leahlisabeth)

When it came down to it, Jack was proud of himself for lasting six whole months before the breakdown. As much as he felt like a total failure asking for help, he could objectively look at everything he had to deal with and know just how far out of his depth he really was.

So in all, it was bittersweet as he stood on Shitty’s doorstep, face sticky from recently shed tears, bags under his eyes bigger than the overflowing diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and the 4 year old devil child squirming out of his arms.

“Bro…” Shitty started to speak. Jack didn’t bother trying to hide the pathetic look on his face. Shitty closed his mouth and reached for the little girl in Jack’s arms.

The next few minutes passed in a blur but Jack soon found himself tucked up on the couch, blanket on his lap, mug of hot tea in his hand, the hockey game on low in the background, and best of all, the low murmur of his best friend entertaining his child in a room far away from him.

Jack drifted.

When Jack came back to himself, Shitty was sitting in the armchair, Jack’s little girl napping for the first time in six long months in his arms.

“You can’t keep this up,” Shitty said knowingly.

“I can’t keep this up,” Jack agreed, feeling a weight slide off him just at the admission.

“What about Mama and Papa Z?”Shitty asked. They’d be…”

“They’ve offered,” Jack interrupted, scrubbing hands over his tired face. “But they still don’t know about Ronnie’s magic. I don’t know how they would react. And I can’t uproot their lives like that. They have ties in Montreal and I can’t leave Providence...I don’t want to leave Providence,” he amended.

An oddly gentle look stole over Shitty’s face. “She’s not here, Jack,” he said.

“I know!” Jack raised his voice a it but shut his mouth guiltily when his little girl stirred.

“I know,” he repeated.” But I see the streets she loved and I can run the path where we first met and stop under the tree where we had our first kiss and I find echoes of her life everywhere. It’s like every moment we shared was this beautiful dream and I’m not ready to wake up yet.”

“Jack,” Shitty chided. “I know you loved her but but don’t fucking coat your life in amber and pretend it was picture perfect. I’m pretty sure all the times you called me to vent will say otherwise.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Jack snapped. “But some of it was good, just so good. And we were in love, we really were. Don’t you think I owe it to her to remember the good times?

“Not if you’re going to put her up on some pedestal like an impossible paragon of womanhood,” Shitty glared at him.

“It wasn’t all her fault,” Jack said, “If I’d noticed. If I’d realized there was more to her behaviour than just anger…”

“Hey, you know that leads nowhere good,” Shitty stopped him, mustache twitching in righteous anger.

“I came to you, didn’t I?” Jack asked defiantly.

“Yes, you did,” Shitty grinned. “Which means you have to listen to whatever I tell you, now repeat after me,” he waggled his mustache.

“Shitty…” Jack protested.

“I, Jack Zimmerman,” Shitty began, staring Jack menacingly in the eye.

Jack rolled his eyes but repeated dutifully, “I, Jack Zimmerman…”

“A glorious fucker with a supersized brain and an ass that won’t quit.”

Jack sighed but dutifully recited.

“Deserve to move on and be happy.”

Jack stopped. “I know, Shitty. I just need time. Corinne’s only been gone for six months and how could I bring someone else into this life when I can’t even handle it?”

At that, his baby girl stirred in Shitty’s arms and rubbed at sleepy eyes.

“Papa?” she asked, her lower lip wobbling when she realized she wasn’t in her father’s arms.

Jack was on his feet and reaching for her in seconds but not before the lightbulb in the lamp next to the couch exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Hey, shh, Veronique, _mon coeur_ , I’m here, papa is here.”

“Holy shit, does that happen a lot?” Shitty asked in shock.

“Yeah, she started manifesting her magic in the last few weeks before Corinne died. Thankfully she had told me what to watch for in one of her more lucid days. But it got worse after Corinne passed and I’m spending a fortune on lightbulbs.”

“No fucking way. You shoulda told me she was manifesting this strong already,” Shitty whistled. Veronique was already consoled now that she was in her father’s arms and she was once again peering at Shitty’s mustache. He wiggled it at her and she giggled and buried her face in her father’s chest.

“I didn’t want anyone to think I couldn’t take care of her,” Jack protested. You know sometimes they’ve pulled kids from non magical households. I couldn’t lose her.” Jack clutched her tight.

“Hey, dude, no, this is great!” Shitty jumped up and began rooting around on one of his overflowing desks until he emerged with his cellphone. “I’ve got the perfect solution! See, there’s this little blond dude, baker type, kitchen witch extraordinaire, and he’s hit a real rough patch. Can’t give you the deets cause it’s his story to tell and I guarantee it’s nothing that would concern you about him. But he’s been staying in this place that’s way too expensive for him and he’s got this really fucking awful job that he feels like he can’t quit. But the little fucker is kinda proud and refuses to just come and stay with me or Lardo or any of our other friends.”

“Uh, what does that have to do with me? Jack asked.

“Hire him to teach Ronnie! Since she’s so out of control, you’ll want someone live in until she learns to control herself. And he’ll have time to get a better solution figured out.”

“Are you mad? I’m not going to hire some random kitchen witch and just leave him with my daughter.”

“I say kitchen witch because that’s his favourite type of magic but Bitty is no slouch in the magic department. And he’s seriously sw’awesome. Like if there is a dude on earth I love as much as Jack fucking Zimmerman, it is Itty Bitty Bittle.”

“But a stranger?” Jack can feel himself weakening. “Corinne…”

“Is not fucking here. And you owe it to her to find someone to teach Ronnie about magic. What were you going to do, have her grow up suppressed and take away her autonomy like that ice princess?”

“Elsa,” Jack supplied.

“That’s the one,” Shitty said. “Look, she’s your daughter. I’m not going to tell you how to raise her and I’m pretty sure I’ve given you all the lectures on female empowerment I currently possess. So at least think about it. Call him, meet him, give him a trial run. And if he doesn’t feel safe, I’ll never bring it up again. But trust me, brah, this is a good thing.”

Jack sighed and gave in. “Give me his number,” he said, standing with Veronique in his arms.

“And you’ll actually think about it?”

“Yes,” Jack nodded. And although a massive pit opened up in his stomach at the thought of his child in the arms of a stranger, a weight lifted off his shoulders at the feeling of a way forward at last.

* * *

Eric Bittle stared at the microwave on the counter. He kept his hands outstretched, singing under his breath to direct his focus and block out distractions. His hands had started to tremble by the time the bell on the microwave dinged and the light shut off. Bitty held his breath as he opened the door, reached in with his oven mitts and pulled out a pie.

He pinched a little bit of the crust off and it was better this time, there at least were discernible flakes. But the top was still too pale, the sugar had burnt, and the edges hadn’t crisped up properly at all.

It was edible, but it wasn’t good enough. Not for the first time, the hole in his chest opened up and he missed home, not just the constant access to the oven, but everything.

“Ugh,” he groaned out loud. “How am I ever going to find another job if I can’t even manage a decent interview pie?”

He pulled open the little mini fridge in his kitchenette to start over but then he remembered he had used his last stick of butter on the previous batch. He pulled out his wallet and glanced inside, hoping to spot a twenty that he’d somehow missed the last fifty times he’d looked inside. No luck. And it didn’t matter that baking made him feel better or that the man living in his back alley really appreciated his failed experiments, he simply could not afford to continue baking when rent almost exactly equalled his monthly salary.

Single Ladies blasted from his phone and Bitty grabbed for it immediately. It was an unknown number with a Providence area code and Bitty paused to take a second to just breathe and tamp down his excitement. He wasn’t ready to face another crushing disappointment so he couldn’t afford to get his hopes up before he at least heard what was coming from the other side. He realized he was standing in his kitchen like an idiot while his phone rang and hurried to answer before they hung up.

“Hello?” he said, trying his best to sound professional.

“Hello,” a voice with a faint french accent greeted him. “May I speak to...euh...Eric Bittle?”

“Speaking,” Bitty replied, stomach jumping. It wasn’t a wrong number!

“I got your number from my friend, Shitty,” the voice continued and Bitty’s heart sank. It was going to be one of those calls.

“Can you tell him to stop doing this?” Eric sighed.

“Um...what?” the voice asked.

“He means well but he knows I don’t have an oven right now and he keeps sending all his friends to buy subpar microwave pies from me and I wouldn’t even give them away for free. I’m sorry if you were looking forward to trying it but it’s just not a good time. If that’s all, I’m going to go now. I need to keep this line open,” Bitty said, trying to make his voice ooze politeness while also being firm.

“No, wait!” the voice half shouted. “I don’t even like pie!”

“Um...then why are you calling?” Bitty asked.

“My daughter, she’s four and her magic is manifesting really strongly. Shitty said you have experience with children,” the voice sounded resigned.

“I do…” Bitty began slowly. “But if you want me to teach her control, it’s going to be much more effective coming from a parent. Since she inherited it from you it will be a lot closer to your flavor.”

“She doesn’t have anyone. I’m not the magical parent and my wife... I can’t bring in a babysitter and I definitely can’t drop her off at daycare, not when she can’t control her magic at all,” the voice snapped.

“I have a job. I don’t know how many hours I would be available to help out. I can’t cut back at all, not if I want to keep my place,” Bitty said defensively. 

“I CAN pay you," the man on the other end argued. “I’m not asking you to help out, I’m offering you a job. I have a spare bedroom. Veronique needs a lot of support. You would have free room and board, of course. We can negotiate that when we meet.”

“So what, I quit my job and give up my place and just might move into yours? What happens if it doesn't work out?" Bitty retorted. 

There is a slightly longer pause and the voice is a little gentler when the man speaks again. “I'm not just going to kick you out on the streets. If we decide it isn't working out, you can stay until you find another job and a place.”

Bitty half collapsed onto his bed. “You’re serious?”

“Look, just talk to Shitty if you’re worried. He's better at explaining things.” A note of impatience crept back into the voice

“Um, what’s your name?” Eric asked.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Jack, Jack Zimmerman. I'm not exactly sure about this either ” Jack said, and he suddenly sounded very tired. “I don't want to be the father who shuttles his daughter off to strangers, but I don't know what else to do." 

“Lord, honey, if there is one thing I'm getting from this conversation, it's that you love your daughter very much. I'm willing to see if we're compatible," 

Jack sighed and then just said, “thank you." 

Bitty’s southern autopilot kicked in and he heard himself offering a polite goodbye and making a plan to meet but it didn’t quite feel real. 

With shaking hands, he dialled Shitty’s number. He knew she should do his due diligence but he already knew he was going to take this job. “Hey, this Jack Zimmerman, is he for real?”


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was terrified. He should call Bittle back, tell him that he had reconsidered. There was no way he was trusting his baby girl to some random guy, no matter how good at magic he was. Then the doorbell rang and Jack knew it was too late to cancel.

He opened the door to see a small blond man on the doorstep. He wrung his hands in front of him, as if he was used to carrying something and couldn’t handle his hands being empty.

“Are you Jack?” the man asked him. Jack was taken aback at how young he sounded.

“Bittle?” he asked.

“Yes, but call me Bitty, everyone does,” Bittle grinned up at him and reached out a hand to shake.

Jack shook his hand quickly, letting go as soon as it was polite.

Bittle took a step forward but Jack was still standing in the doorway. “Oh, were you going to interview me out here? I don’t know that we can really know if this is going to work or not until I meet your daughter.”

“Oh, right.” Jack could feel his face heating as he stepped back to allow Bittle to enter. “Veronique!” he called to cover his embarrassment.

His little girl came charging down the stairs, using her father’s legs to halt her headlong dash.

Bittle crouched down to her level. “Hello, my name is Eric Bittle but you can call me Bitty. What should I call you?”

“My name is Ronnie Fucking Zimmermann,” she announced loudly.

“Veronique!” Jack shouted. “Where did you hear that?”

“Unka Shitty.” She shrunk back a little, her lower lip quivering.

“And what have I told you about repeating things that Uncle Shitty says?” Jack said, a little softer.

“To ask you before ‘peating it cuz it might be something bad,” she recited.

“Now tell Mr Bittle that you’re sorry and it won’t happen again,” Jack coached.

“Sorry Mr Bitty,” she whispered.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m friends with Uncle Shitty too and I know exactly the kind of language he uses all the time.” Bittle grinned at her and Jack could swear the house felt brighter.

“Now,” Bittle continued, “did your daddy tell you why I was coming to meet you?”

“Cuz I keep ‘sploding the lights?” she asked.

“Exactly. You have magic inside you and we need to practice getting it out without hurting the lightbulbs,” Bittle said.

“How can you help?” Ronnie asked rudely.

Bittle ignored Jack’s mortified hiss and continued talking to Ronnie. “I have magic inside me too. When I was your age, my mama used to make bread in the kitchen and I would turn it into giant dough monsters, all by accident. My moomaw had to teach me to use little bits of magic at a time and that’s what I’m going to teach you. But first, I have to check something. Can you hold out your hand?”

Jack watched as Bittle placed his daughter’s tiny palm against his own.

“Ok, now think explodey thoughts,” Bittle said

Ronnie put on her mad face. Bittle jumped a little and his face went pale for just a moment. “Ok, I’m going to talk to your daddy for just a minute. Can you wait for me in the kitchen?”

Ronnie dashed off and Bittle stood to face Jack. “I’m not sure,” he said at Jack’s questioning look. “Her magic is strong for one her age. It is still much weaker than mine of course, but our primary gifts are distinct. Mine works mostly with chemical reactions and hers is basically pure electricity. I need to ask first though, what was your wife’s maiden name?”

“Dubois? Why?” Jack questioned.

“Did she ever tell you who trained her?” Bitty continued.

“She was largely self taught,” Jack said.

Bitty sighed and nodded. “I should be able to get her started with her secondary gifts but there is a limit how far I can take her. Eventually you will need to find someone to teach her about her primary gift.”

“Will you try this afternoon? See how you work together?” Jack asked.

“That’s a good idea. I haven’t given notice at my job yet but I would like to leave as soon as possible so the sooner we figure this out the better.” Bittle said.

“Mr Bitty! I’m ready!” Ronnie shouted from the kitchen.

“I have the feeling I shouldn’t leave her alone in there for long,” Bittle wrinkled his nose.

“Nope,” Jack said, hurrying down the hallways toward the kitchen. Ronnie was fine, but she had washed her hands and as a result, had splashed water all over the counter. Jack rushed in with a tea towel and began wiping down every surface. He had learned from experience that it was a bad idea to leave random puddles of water lying around the house.

By the time he turned around, flour, yeast, sugar, and salt had appeared on the table from seemingly nowhere. Jack was sure that they hadn’t come from his kitchen.

“Did you just manifest those?” he asked.

“Lord no, I don’t have that kind of power. I brought them from home because I didn’t know what type of baking supplies you would have in your kitchen. And looks like I was right. Do you eat anything other than unseasoned chicken breast and kale salad?” Bittle chirped.

“I eat healthy, nutritious food,” Jack defended himself.

“Sure.” Bittle raised one eyebrow at him but was distracted by Ronnie tugging at his shirt.

“What we making?” she asked.

“We are going to make bread,” Bittle smiled, lifting her to stand on a chair at the table and putting a bowl in front of her. With barely a movement of his hand, water, sugar, and yeast measured itself out into the bowl. Bittle put his hands over the bowl. “Ok Ronnie, put your hands on mine. Don’t try to make the explodey feeling yourself but see if you can feel it in my hands and how I’m pushing it into the water.”

Ronnie did as he asked and Jack’s heart clenched at the look of wonder and excitement on her face. 

“I feel it!” she squealed. The kitchen light exploded and mixture in the bowl foamed over the edge and shot like a geyser into the air.

Bittle reacted quickly, hands in the air. He contained the mess and dropped it back into the bowl. “Jack, could you get that lightbulb real quick?”

“Euh, should I? If you’re going to keep doing this, I mean.” Jack crossed his arms.

“Of course, we’ll need the light. I’ve got a handle on her magic now. It shouldn’t explode again,” Bittle said confidently.

Jack left the room to grab a lightbulb and by the time he returned, Ronnie had her fingers back in the bowl. The mixture had gone back down and Bitty was gradually adding flour and Ronnie worked to incorporate it in with her magic. Her fingers were sparking a little bit but something recognizable was forming.

Jack watched for a few minutes longer but soon grew bored at watching something he didn’t understand. He went and grabbed the book he was reading and settled himself in a chair out of the way. He couldn’t quite bring himself to leave them alone but it seemed Bittle didn’t quite need his undivided attention. He didn’t resurface from his book until the delicious smell of baking bread filled the air. He looked up to see Ronnie, still standing on the chair, with a determined look on her face, levitating cutlery to each plate. It wobbled in the air and Jack could see Bittle behind her with his hands out, supporting her efforts, but it’s the first time he’d ever seen Ronnie do magic on purpose.

“It smells good in here,” Jack said, looking at the bubbling pots on the stove and the perfect pie sitting on the counter. He must have been more immersed in his book than he thought. “I didn’t expect you to cook.”

“It’s just part of the training. It’s the way my moomaw taught me and so it’s going to be the easiest way for me to teach. Delicious home cooked meals are just a side effect of that. So no complaining, Mr Zimmermann!” Bittle glared up at him but the effect was quite diminished by the streak of flour on his cheek. Before Jack could think better of it, he reached out and brushed the flour away with his thumb

Bittle looked up at him, brown eyes huge, and backed away.

“You had flour on your face,” Jack hurried to explain. “Sorry, I should have just told you.”

Bittle nodded. One of the pots on the stove chose that moment to release a great cloud of steam and start rattling the lid. Bittle turned quickly to remove it from the heat and the moment passed. “It’s nothing really all that fancy, just some spaghetti and meat sauce. Oh, and Ronnie’s bread should be just about ready to come out of the oven!” 

Jack watched Bittle run around the kitchen, pulling out the bread and flipping it over to drop the loaf onto a clean cutting board. It was like he had always been there and Jack wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He forced himself to turn away and noticed his daughter just finishing up with the table.

“Ronnie, show me what you learned _ma choupinette_ ,” Jack murmured, leaning to get on her level.

“Papa! I made bread! Mr Bitty’s teaching me how to put the lightning in it!” Ronnie hugged him tightly around the neck.

“That’s wonderful!” Jack grinned, hugging her back.

“Mr Bitty is so nice! Is he going to come back again tomorrow?” Ronnie asked.

Jack looked over at Bittle. He was standing at the counter, slicing the fresh, steaming bread, trying hard not to look like he was listening. “Yes, Mr Bitty is going to stay here and keep helping with the lightning. If he wants to, that is.” He looked up to see Bittle’s reaction.

Bittle smiled. “Yeah, yes, I’m gonna stay.”

* * *

It felt like a whirlwind. Everything happened so quickly. Bitty called his boss on the bus ride home.

“George?” Bitty tried to sound firm. “I’m not coming in to work tomorrow.”

“You will if you want to keep your job,” George shouted. Bitty could almost see him, face turning red, veins standing out on his temples, spittle flying out of his mouth.

“That’s the thing, George. I don’t want to keep my job. You can start looking for my replacement,” Bitty said calmly, even though his heart was jumping in his chest. He hung up as George started to scream in earnest. He had already decided he wasn’t going to go back for his final paltry paycheck. Even if this job ended up being short term, he now had some breathing room.

He called Shitty next.

“Bitt-ay! You beautiful fucker, how the fuck are you?” Shitty yelled so loudly that Bitty had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Lord, you’re giving my boss a run for his money in the volume department,” Bitty chuckled.

“Aww brah, is that asshole giving you shit again? Just give me the word and I’ll beat the snot out of him,” Shitty lowered his voice enough that at least the rest of bus couldn’t hear his side of the conversation.

“No need,” Bitty grinned. “He was just pissed that I quit with no notice.”

“You did it! You’re working for Jack?!” Shitty yelled again.

Bitty nodded before remembering they weren’t on facetime. “Thanks awfully,” he said. “This is going to be a breeze compared to standing by a cash register all day. Ronnie is a sweet kid, if a bit of a handful and I barely knew her father was there. He is just quiet as a mouse.”

“He was?” Shitty asked. “I was hoping...ah well. That’s good. Ronnie is a great kid,” Shitty’s voice sounded fond.

“I’ve heard you can be a bit of a bad influence,” Bitty said archly.

“Did she introduce herself as Ronnie Fucking Zimmermann? Fucking A, bro! You better be high fiving your phone because I am the best uncle ever!” Shitty crowed.

“Poor Jack was so embarrassed. I swear, his face was so red,” Bitty hissed into the phone.

“The man could stand to lighten up,” Shitty said.

“Haha, I guess,” Bitty said, remembering the sadness in Jack’s eyes throughout supper.

“Oh crap, this is my stop. I’ve gotta pack up my entire apartment tonight. A friend of Jack’s is coming by tomorrow with his truck to help me move and I don’t know how long it is going to take,” Bitty said, reaching up and signalling the bus driver to stop.

“You do you, little dude. Keep me in the loop, hey?” Shitty asked.

“Of course. And thank you. This is just what I needed right now. You really came through for me,” Bitty could feel his eyes getting a little wet.

“Got your back, Bitty. You know that,” Shitty said.

“I know,” Bitty said. “Ok, now I really gotta go.” He hung up the phone and ran off the bus. He snuck into his room, thankfully evading his crazy landlady and looked around, wondering where to start. Most of his bedroom stuff was still packed into boxes. He had never found the time or energy to really set up and part of him had always hoped he would find a better place soon so he hadn’t bothered to set up. However, it meant his kitchen stuff was not particularly organized. Every single dish he owned was dirty and sitting in piles around his little kitchenette. It was barely functional but Bitty had been really determined to bake. Of course, he often found he had no energy or drive to do the cleaning afterward. His magic didn’t like to clean any more than he did. Every time he tried, it would coat everything in a layer of fine sugar. Bitty shuddered when he remembered the ant invasion of 2004.

He rolled up his sleeves, reminding himself that this was the first step toward something better, and filled the rusty sink with water.


	3. Chapter 3

A pounding on the door brought Bitty out of a deep sleep. He raised his head and rubbed bleary eyes to realize he was passed out at his kitchen table. He looked around in a panic and realized that he was done. The kitchen wasn’t spotless and his southern mother would have had a fit if she had seen it. But it was cleaner than when he moved in, it was already more than his landlady deserved, and his genteel mother had decisively removed herself from his life and had no intention of returning.

“Hello? Eric Bittle? You in there? I have right place?” A very big, very Russian voice filtered through the door.

“Are you Jack’s friend,” Bitty asked before opening the door.

“Yeah, Zimmboni call me, say you have stuff to move?” The voice replied.

Bittle steeled himself and opened the door. He was still not prepared for the way the man filled the doorway and then completely took over the doorway.

“Where rest of your stuff?” the man asked.

“Oh, this is it. The furniture wasn’t mine and I didn’t really bring a lot of stuff,” Bitty blushed.

“Oh, I thought Zimmboni was asking for real favour. This nothing. You have baking stuff? I want to try famous pie,” he winked.

“Oh uh, sure honey. I’ll bake ya your own pie for this. Just tell me your favourite flavour,” Bitty smiled, instantly put at ease by the warmth exuding from this man’s every pore. “I’m sorry but I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Oh, is Alexei, Alexei Mashkov. But call me Tater, like tiny potatoes, yes?” Tater grinned and swooped Bitty up into a massive hug.

Bitty tensed for a second. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a hug this all-encompassing. If he was being honest, he couldn’t really remember much in the way of positive physical contact since he’d left Georgia and suddenly he was crying into Tater’s shoulder.

Instead of freaking out, Tater just held him and waited for him to stop crying.

“Lord, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” Bitty apologized, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Don’t say sorry, little B. I give best hugs. You can have one any time.” Tater clapped him on the shoulder. “I start loading.”

“Thanks Tater,” Bitty said before popping into the bathroom to gather himself. He waited in there for a while, feeling guilty as he heard Tater come and go several times with boxes of his stuff.

He flew out of the bathroom in a rush when he heard screeching out in the hallway.

“Get the hell out of my apartment building!” The landlady shrieked.

“Is ok. Am helping tenant move out. There he is,” Tater said.

“Mrs Eversham, it’s alright, he’s with me,” Bitty hurried to placate her.

“And who said you could be having gentleman callers in this place? Tell him to leave now or I will kick you out onto the street. I let you in against my better judgement and I will not have you turning my building into a den of sin,” she spat at Tater.

“You don’t have to worry about it. I’m leaving,” Bitty yelled. “And I’m glad I am! Because I am gay and you can’t tell me who I can or cannot have in the apartment I am paying for.”

“Why you little brat! How dare you move out without notice!” she yelled.

“Without notice? I could have done far worse to you and you know it. It’s enough that you kept tacking on extra charges after I already signed your contact and showed me a much better unit and pulled a fast one at the end and now you have the nerve to suggest that I am the one in the wrong. Well bless your heart, but I’m leaving.” Bitty stepped closer and tried his best to look intimidating.

“Good riddance. And don’t expect your damage deposit back. I need some compensation for my trouble,” Mrs Eversham sniffed.

“We take damage deposit now,” Tater scowled down at her. “Do not cheat my friend.”

Mrs Eversham opened her mouth to argue but a strange thing happened, Tater seemed almost to grow, if not in stature then definitely in presence. She wilted away from him before running back into her apartment. She came back out moments later with an envelope haphazardly stuffed with cash. She shoved it into Bitty’s hands and darted back into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

"Thanks, Tater," Bitty said, still staring after Mrs Eversham with a slightly stunned look on his face. "I was probably just going to call that a loss."

"No need to thank. Am friend. Although I wouldn't be saying no to a blueberry pie," Tater winked at him.

"Just one pie?" Bitty said. "I think that can be arranged." He grinned at Tater.

"Anything else?" Tater asked. "I moved all boxes in living room."

"No, that should be everything," Bitty sighed in relief. "I'm glad to see the last of this place."

Tater laughed and clapped Bitty on the shoulder. "Will be better now. You'll see. Zimmboni is good guy."

"He's not the only one," Bitty said softly.

"Let's go," Tater said. "Longer we take here, longer I wait for pie!"

Bitty shook his head and laughed. He even dared to wink back at Tater. Things were definitely changing.

* * *

Jack was in his office when he heard Bittle arrive. Well, actually, he heard his daughter shouting as Tater flew her around the house like an airplane. He listened for a moment to make sure everything was going smoothly but he had already told Tater where Bittle would be staying so he didn't feel he needed to be present for the unpacking. 

He went back to his computer and pulled up the next chapter of his book and was soon lost in revision.

Again, he was pulled out of his hyperfocus by the smell of food, some sort of curry, and again the undercurrent of sweetness that meant pie. He followed his nose out into the kitchen to see a different scene than the one the night before. Ronnie was setting the table by hand this time and Bittle was so wrapped up in his conversation with Tater that he didn't even notice Jack come in.

"Smells good," Jack said, loud enough to break into the conversation.

"Oh, Jack, I didn't see you there," Bittle said, hand to his heart. "Tater was just telling me all about your old team. I had no idea you used to play hockey."

Jack couldn't decide if he was happy or disappointed that Bittle knew nothing about his past. He settled somewhere in the middle of the two. "All good things, I hope," he joked weakly.

"He told me about your Stanley Cup win. Very impressive. I used to play hockey in high school and university but I was always way more interested in playing than following the professional teams. I had enough of that with..." Bittle cut himself off, paling just a little. "Let me just check on dinner." He turned away from them and stirred the concoction in the pan and moved another pot off the heat.

"We should eat while it's still hot," Bittle said with a big, pasted-on grin.

"I should go, maybe," Tater started.

"No," Bittle interrupted.

Jack wondered at the small flash of anger he felt when he realized how much Bittle wanted Tater to stay and felt immediately bad for it. "You should stay for supper," he broke in, trying not to feel like a heel for Bittle's grateful look.

"No, don't want to impose," Tater protested. "And I have pie for home."

"I insist," Jack said. 

"Well, if insisting," Tater grinned. He swooped up a shrieking Ronnie. "You should set place for me, little munchkin."

Bittle laughed at their antics as he quickly got dinner on the table.

"so, little B," Tater said as soon as they were all settled. "What Jack hire you for? Is he such terrible cook?"

Bittle looked at Jack for guidance.

"Ronnie's magic was getting a little out of control so I hired her a tutor," Jack said smoothly.

"Oh, pies really are magic!" Tater chirped. "I thought you having magic but didn't want to ask."

Jack felt Bittle sigh in relief. "I wasn't sure if y'all were keeping that a secret," he said to Jack. 

Jack also felt relieved. He knew those with magic should understand the need for secrecy but until that moment, he didn't really know if Bittle could be trusted to keep such a secret. "Good to wait for my okay before speaking to anyone, but yes, close friends of my family do know about her magic. And Tater has magic of his own."

"Oh," Bittle said, surprised. "Why aren't you teaching Ronnie then? I would think it would be better coming from someone who knew her already."

"My magic no good for teaching. I change myself. Ronnie's magic go out. Mine is all in." Tater explained.

"I guess that makes sense," Bittle said. "This is great y'all, I haven't had anyone magic to talk to in a really long time."

"I come over for talking and pie any time tiny baker wants," Tater promised.

Bittle grinned. Jack just ate his food in silence, blaming his lack of conversation on the delicious food in his mouth.

He retreated to his office again after supper, not looking up from his work until he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Um...Tater left and Ronnie is in bed," Bittle started.

Jack nodded and turned to go back to his book.

"I also wanted to ask you..." Bittle trailed off.

"Spit it out, Bittle," Jack snapped. "I have work to do."

"I just wanted to know if you expected me to be on call all the time or if there were times that would be designated time off. Not that I'm trying to get away from your daughter, she is absolutely lovely and I'm so grateful to you for letting me stay here and all and I definitely don't want to rock the boat but I just wanted to know," Bittle bit his lip to slow the flood of words.

"What's this about?" Jack asked.

"Well Tater wanted to know. He has a few things he wants to show me and I have been so busy since moving to Providence that I've hardly seen anything in the area. They're not dates, at least I don't think they are. I just..."

"It's fine, Bittle," Jack stopped Bittle. "Ronnie is pretty good at keeping herself entertained and I'm always here in the evenings. If you want to go out with Tater a couple evenings a week, go right ahead. This isn't a prison."

"Thank you, Jack!" Bittle grinned brightly and Jack turned away, unsure how to handle having all that energy turned on him.

"Goodnight, Bittle, let me know if you need anything before you go to bed," Jack said dismissively.

"Oh, I will!" Bittle said. "But the room is lovely. I'm sure everything is just fine. Seriously, thank you. I don't know if I've told you just how grateful I am for this job."

"That's nice, Bittle," Jack said as a typo on the screen caught his eye. He was soon lost in the revision again. When his eyes were burning too much to continue reading, he realized he hadn't even noticed when Bittle left.


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of burning brought Bitty out of a deep sleep. "Mr Bitty, I made breakfast," a loud voice sounded at his ear and brought him the rest of the way to wakefulness.

He dragged his eyes open. Obviously he had been more exhausted than he thought. Ronnie stood at the head of his bed, holding a plate full of charred squares.

"Um...what?" he asked eloquently.

"I made breakfast," she repeated. "Do you like toast?"

"Yes, I do," Bitty said. He focused on the plate in her hands. "You made toast?"

She nodded proudly. "I didn't even have to use the toaster! I did it! Just like you told me!"

Bitty resigned himself to eating the toast instead of seeing her disappointed face. It wasn't easy but he managed several bites before she wandered out of the room. Working quickly, he crumbled it and rushed to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet.

"Daddy, I made breakfast," he heard Ronnie shout from down the hall. He rushed to the other room to see Jack sitting up and biting down on his own slice of burnt toast.

Bittle suddenly felt glad he slept in a shirt so he wouldn't have to compare himself to Jack Zimmermann's apparently glorious chest. As it was, he could feel himself blushing to the roots of his hair.

Ronnie appeared to be ready to contentedly just watched her father finish his breakfast. Jack barely hid his grimace as he took another bite from his slice of toast. Bitty was tempted to laugh and watch him choke it down but he took pity on Jack.

"Ronnie, part of cooking breakfast is cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. Have you done that yet?" Bitty called from the doorway.

Jack shot him a look of pathetic gratitude as a look of horror crossed Ronnie's face.

"I didn't!" she shouted. "But don't worry! I'll do the best job!"

Jack laughed as she ran from the room and Bittle blushed as he again caught a glimpse of Jack's perfectly sculpted abs.

"I should go...supervise," he gasped and followed Ronnie downstairs.

Jack came down as they were finishing. He was fully dressed and more formally than Bitty had seen him so far. "Since I have you here, I called the university and told them I'm coming back from my sabbatical early. I'm hoping with some more privacy, I'll be able to get my book finished before classes start up again in the fall."

"Oh," Bitty said. "Well that's great. I'm glad you trust me to take care of Ronnie."

"Yes, well I should have gone back ages ago," Jack said. "They gave me an awful lot of leave and I've been itching to go back to work for weeks now. I'll be back for supper. Bye Ronnie, be good for Mr Bitty." He knelt and kissed her quickly before heading out the door.

"Guess it's just you and me," he said to Ronnie.

"Yeah!" she cheered. "What are you going to teach me today?"

Bitty smiled at her. "I bought some peaches at the store yesterday but they aren't ripe yet. I thought I would teach you how to fix that."

Ronnie looked at her hands, sparks running along her fingers. "I can make fruit good?" she asked in awe.

"Let's try it and see," said Bitty.

As far as Jack was concerned, that morning soon turned into a pattern. Jack would get up early, eat a few bites of whatever breakfast food Ronnie decided to mangle that day, and run out the door. He would be back for supper but he often had a printed copy of his manuscript by his plate and he preferred to stay out of the dinner conversation.

After supper, he would retire to his office to read and wind down, leaving Bitty and Ronnie to entertain themselves again.

Sometimes Tater was there for supper and on those nights, Jack would make an effort to be more present. And if Tater took Bitty out after supper, Jack would read on the couch instead of in his office.

"Mr Bitty," Ronnie asked him a few weeks later. "Does Papa not like me anymore?"

"Oh, of course not, sweetpea. Your Daddy loves you very much. He's just very busy. He has important work to do," Bitty tried to console her.

"More important than me?" Ronnie asked, tears flashing with electricity.

"No, you are very important to him. He just knows that I'm looking after you and so he doesn't have to worry about you," Bitty hugged her tight.

"I miss him. He hasn't read me a single story since you moved in," she cried.

"I know. How about you go get me your favourite book and I'll read to you all afternoon instead of practicing. Your pie yesterday was nearly perfect and I think we could take a small break."

Ronnie ran to get her book and Bitty sent a quick text to Jack. "Can you bring takeout tonight? I won't have time to make supper."

"Is Ronnie okay?" Jack replied immediately.

Bitty sighed and thought for a moment. "She's fine," he finally sent.

"Ok, Chinese alright?" Jack asked.

"Yes, fine," Bitty replied before dropping his phone on the table as Ronnie tackled him with an armful of books.

* * *

Even though Jack had takeout in his arms, it still felt completely wrong to come home to a cold kitchen. He set the food on the table and walked into the living room where he saw a blanket fort in the middle of the floor, books strewn about the opening, and Bittle's animated voice reading some story about a snail.

"Euh...hello the fort," Jack said.

"Papa!" Ronnie scrambled out of the fort, beaming at her father. "Mr Bitty said we can eat supper in here!"

"Only if it's okay with you," Bittle crawled out behind her, his fine blond hair mussed and staticky.

"Sure," Jack said, not knowing how to answer. He went to the kitchen and grabbed some plates and the takeout. It was a little cramped in the fort but it was well lit. Jack took a closer look at the little balls on the ceiling.

"Are these...?" he asked, not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Mr Bitty taught me how to make them. They're little lightning balls!" Ronnie said, pulling one from the blanket and showing it to him. "But don't touch it. It will shock you like it shocks Mr Bitty."

"You taught her this?" Jack asked Bittle.

Bittle looked proud. "She's very gifted, especially for having only one magic parent. Are you sure there isn't some in your family tree, Jack?"

Jack shook his head, "Not recently," he said.

"Well, she's doing very well. I've been real happy with how she's doing," Bittle beamed.

Jack shrunk back from the warmth of Bittle's open face. "I think you have this handled," he said. He grabbed the container of chicken and vegetables he had ordered for himself and crawled out of the fort, ignoring Ronnie's protests. "I really have more I want to get done tonight," he said to his daughter before fleeing the room.

Bittle knocked on his door again that night. "I'm sorry..." he started but then had a hard time continuing. "I know you don't want to hear this but you need to spend some time with your daughter. She misses you."

"Bittle," Jack cut him off before he could go any further. "You've only been here a few months. I hardly think you are more of an expert on my daughter and what she needs than I am. Don't disturb me again. I need to finish this chapter by the end of the week.

Bittle opened his mouth to argue but Jack stood and took a step toward him. He didn't use his size to his advantage often but he knew just how to intimidate someone like Bittle. Bittle paled, closed his mouth and fled the room.

Jack felt bad. He hadn't really meant to scare the kid, just to stop his meddling. But then an alternate wording for the sentence he'd been struggling with popped into his head and, just like that, he was back in writing mode.

He endured a few more days of Bittle's icy silence at the supper table until the next Monday when he got another text about bringing home takeout.

The kitchen was empty again but Jack wasn't worried until he realized that the living room was as well. He wandered upstairs, moving quicker as he heard his daughter sobbing.

They were in Ronnie's bedroom. Bittle was sitting in her bed, Ronnie cradled in one arm and a bucket in the other. She heaved into the bucket, her broken whimpers suggesting this hadn't just started.

"Why didn't you tell me she was sick?" Jack demanded, striding into the room.

"Because I have it handled and I didn't want to take you away from your precious book," Bittle said bitterly.

Jack opened his mouth to shout at Bittle but Ronnie sagged back against Bittle's chest and moaned.

"Papa?" she asked.

Jack's heart melted and he strode forward to take her from Bittle's arms.

"Don't," Bittle said.

Jack glared at the younger man. "She's sick. She needs me."

"You can't," Bittle said. "She can't control it right now."

Jack looked closer, at Bittle's sweat dark hair, his clenched teeth, the exhaustion in his eyes, and the rhythmic tremors spreading through his body. But they weren’t tremors, he realized, they were tiny electric shocks.

"I can take it," Jack insisted. "Let me have her."

"You don't understand," Bitty said. "If I stop dampening her magic, she'll knock out the whole block." His jaw snapped shut and he groaned as a particularly strong wave shot through him.

"Bittle..." Jack said. He didn't know what to say.

"I need water, food. I can't do this for much longer otherwise." Bittle said, rubbing his daughter's back slowly as she started to retch again.

Jack ran downstairs for the water and the takeout. He reached the kitchen and rested his forehead against the wall for the moment. He hadn't felt so helpless since Corinne had died. 

A shout from Bittle and a flicker of the lights had him racing back up the stairs. He helped Bittle eat and drink but the helpless feeling did not go away.

He sat in the reading chair all night, occasionally dozing off when his little girl did. Every time he opened his eyes, Bittle was there, eyes wide and bloodshot, trembling with the strain of keeping his girl in check.

Finally, as it neared dawn, Bittle sighed in relief and slumped to the bed. "She's got it. She's back in control," he said hoarsely.

Jack stepped forward and took her sleeping body from Bittle's arms. "I'll take it from here," he said softly.

Bittle nodded and rolled out of the bed, wavering as he tried to stand. He went to the bathroom first and then sprawled out on his bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas. 

Jack tucked his daughter into his own bed and slept in with her. They woke up around ten and wandered downstairs for a little breakfast. Bittle didn't join them. Jack made Ronnie promise she wouldn't go wake him up.

They spent the day curled up under blankets and watching movies and eating leftover takeout. Ronnie insisted on making a card for Bittle and Jack helped her. He didn't even think about work.

He didn't see Bittle until the next morning, dragging himself to the shower in his still vomit covered clothes. He heard the water come on and went and stripped the sheets off all three beds before throwing them in the washing machine.

He helped Ronnie make a completely serviceable plate of pancakes and waited for Bittle to join them downstairs.

"Lord, how did I lose an entire day," Bittle asked as he flopped into a kitchen chair.

"Are you okay, Mr Bitty?" Ronnie asked. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetpea," Bittle smiled. "I'm so glad to see you smiling this morning." 

"Thanks for helping me," Ronnie said. "I made you a card." She dragged out a folded piece of construction paper with what looked like a crudely drawn mushroom on the front. "Thanks for stopping the explosions," it read on the inside. 

"It's a mushroom cloud," Jack said, deadpan.

"I see," Bittle chuckled. "Thank you Ronnie. It's very nice."

* * *

Bittle was just getting ready for bed when Jack knocked on his door. Bittle peeked around the door and opened it when he saw Jack in his pajamas.

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a party with me tomorrow night," Jack asked in a rush.

"A...party? with you?" Bitty asked.

"It's not a date," Jack rushed to explain. "I just know you've been pretty busy and the last few days have been a nightmare and I thought you could use a break."

"I could," Bitty said. "Whose party? And what about Ronnie?"

"Tater offered to watch her. And they are some of my university friends. They might seem pretty straightlaced but some of them are real party animals when you get them started." Jack explained.

"Oh, well I guess it sounds fun, thanks Jack!" Bitty said.

"Good, and you won't be driving so feel free to let loose," Jack assured him.

"Why Mr Zimmermann, I wasn't aware you knew what those words meant?"

"Are you chirping me in my own home?" Jack grinned, face softer than Bitty had ever seen it.

"No man is safe from a good chirping, even if he does has home advantage," Bitty winked, slightly scandalized at his own bravery.

"We'll leave at 8," Jack said.

Bitty stared at the door after Jack left wondering if that had really happened.


	5. Chapter 5

Bitty was regretting saying yes to this party. He had already tried on every outfit in his closet at least three times and nothing said fun loving person who absolutely belonged at a party full of academics.

It was 8 already and Jack was knocking on his door.

"Are you coming?" Jack asked.

"Ugh, yeah, give me a second," Bitty shrugged and grabbed his red bowtie from the bed and pulled on his one and only sweater vest. It would have to do.

Jack's eyes widened when he opened the door.

"That bad?" moaned Bitty. "Should I have gone with a real tie?"

"No, you look...you look really great actually," Jack said.

"Oh," Bitty said, suddenly recognizing a look of admiration and not really knowing how to deal with it.

"We should go," Jack said.

Bitty could only nod. 

When he got to the party, he was a lot less worried. Everyone was dressed more casually than he was and a lot of them were already significantly drunker than he expected.

Jack disappeared to say hello to the hosts and grab Bitty a beer. Bitty took it without a thank you and gulped down half of it. 

"Come on, Bittle," Jack said, grabbing him by the arm. "I found someone who I think you would really enjoy talking to."

He dragged Bitty over to an older woman with frizzy grey hair and glasses. "This is one of my old professors from university, Dr Alice Atley. She specializes in magic and cooking throughout the centuries. I've told her a little bit about you and how you've been helping Ronnie and she really wanted to meet you."

"Oh," Bitty said, still feeling completely out of his element. "Hi."

"Jack tells me you've been using a baking based approach to teaching magic control. Was that a technique passed down to you."

"Uh...yeah. It's how my grandmother taught me about my magic. I started really early so she had me channeling it into bread dough from the very beginning. We’ve actually just moved on to pie. With the bread dough, we practice using our magic in the baking. The pie is a little bit different. You don’t want to overwork a pie crust and the heat from Ronnie’s electricity would melt the butter so we’re working on full suppression. I do things to try to trigger her power while she suppresses it and works with the pie crust."

"Fascinating," Dr Atley said. "How does that work with Ronnie's powers?"

“It’s actually really interesting,” Bitty said, warming to the subject. “Our magic is quite dissimilar, after all. But the same channeling exercises work. The struggle is that a moment of inattention can cause her to cook a lump of pie crust through but I’ve figured out a way of using my magic as a balancing agent.”

“Fascinating,” Dr Atley murmured. “Does it taste the same.”

“Oh lord, not yet,” Bitty laughed. “But she’s still new. It takes a while to get the hang of pastry even for the non magical people. But she is improving.” Bitty was only barely conscious of Jack being pulled away to talk to another guest as Dr Atley asked him a few more questions.

“Honey, I think we should head out,” a woman pulled Dr Atley away from him. Bitty looked over at the clock and realized they had been chatting for nearly an hour.

“Of course, you’re right dear. Excuse me, Eric. This is my wife, Jessica. We both have an early morning tomorrow so unfortunately we can’t stay,” Dr Atley apologized.

“Oh, of course, I won’t keep you. It was a real pleasure to meet you, Dr Atley,” Eric said.

“Eric, call me Alice, and the pleasure was mine,” She smiled before strolling out, arm in arm with her wife.

Bitty looked around, wondering what he should do now. Jack was nowhere in sight and no one else looked remotely familiar.

“Thank God,” A man in his early thirties stepped up to Bitty and wormed his way into Alice’s recently vacated spot. “I thought she was never going to leave.”

“Excuse me?” Bitty asked.

“I’ve just been sitting over there and I was getting some pretty strong vibes from you all night,” the man leered and leaned in closer.

“Vibes? What kind of vibes?” Bitty asked, completely baffled. He hadn’t even noticed this guy in passing.

“Oh you know, the playing hard to get, seeing my flirtations and ignoring them, pretending I wasn’t even there. How did you know that would get me all hot and bothered?” The man whispered in Bitty’s ear.

Bitty shivered.

“Look at you, so responsive.” The man’s sour beer breath washed over Bitty’s face and he had to fight to hold back the vomit.

“I don’t know what you think you were seeing, but trust me, I was not sending out any ‘vibes.’” Bitty pulled away but the man followed him.

“Still playing hard to get. I like it. My name is Tyler, what’s yours?”

“Really none of your business,” Bitty replied, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. He looked around the room but no one was paying attention to them, too busy getting drunk and wrapped up in their own little circles. He could make a scene, but what would Jack think? They were finally starting to become friends. What if Jack didn’t understand? What if all their progress was lost?

Tyler stepped closer. “No need to keep playing. You’ve got my attention. Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

“I want you to go away,” Bitty hissed.

“Still playing? Alright, we can go a little deeper.” Tyler moved surprisingly fast for one so drunk. He was at Bitty’s back in an instant, one hand firmly on Bitty’s lower the back, the other a vise around his bicep.

Bitty closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. If he could just focus on the booze in Tyler’s stomach he could make it foam up and Tyler would vomit, leaving an opening for Bitty to get away. But a sick feeling welled up in his own stomach, the same way it always did when people got too close to his stream of magic, and he couldn’t hold it.

“Je m’excuse, _mon coeur_ , I got held up,” Jack slid in at his side, smoothly extricating him from Tyler’s grip.

Tyler just gaped at him before reasserting his grip on Bitty’s arm. “I saw him first,” he pouted. “Little whore’s been giving me the look all night.”

“I highly doubt that my boyfriend has been making eyes at you all night,” Jack growled, taking a menacing step toward Tyler.

“You should do a better job of keeping him in line,” Tyler growled back before backing down.

Bitty let Jack steer him out the front door and down to sit on the steps.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack said softly. “I thought you were still talking to Atley and I didn’t even realize he was here. I’m not even sure how he finds out about these parties. No one invites him because he consistently crosses the line.” 

Bitty dropped his face into his hands and started to shake. Jack pressed his shoulder into Bitty’s and stayed there, a warm comforting weight at his side, until Bitty pulled himself together.

“Do you want to go back into the party?” Jack asked.

“Not really,” Bitty confessed. “But don’t let me stop you. I’ll just catch an Uber home.”

“I have a limited tolerance for these sorts of things anyway, especially once all the interesting people leave,” Jack looked over at him, his cheeks turning a little pink.

Bitty could feel his own face turning red at being one of those people that Jack considered interesting.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line in there. I know you have a boyfriend. It’s just been my experience that it’s the only way to defuse the situation without a fight,” Jack said, looking away from Bitty.

“Boyfriend?” Bitty asked. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You and Tater aren’t?... Sorry, it’s none of my business,” Jack blushed.

“Tater? Oh no, Sweetpea. Not that I wasn’t interested. He is a gorgeous man. But he has a significant other. He wouldn’t tell me who because they’re in a position where they can’t come out. Tater and I are just friends,” Bitty laughed. 

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” Jack stood and offered his hand to Bitty. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bitty was all too eager to comply.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack tried to be better. He really did. He stopped working such late hours and made an effort to actually spend time with his daughter in the evenings and giving Bittle more time to recover from his days with her. He also stopped bringing books or his laptop to the dinner table. He made his best effort to be both present and pleasant in their conversation.

And it was fun. Jack looked at himself sometimes in the mirror and thought he has looking softer, like maybe the corners of his mouth turned up a little more, and some of the weight of grief had dropped from his eyes. He had always loved Ronnie since the day she was born but now that she was getting a handle on her magic and he wasn’t so worried about her, he was able to see what a wonderful little person she was, with his intent focus on things she cared about and his wife’s enthusiasm for life.

And he thought Bittle was maybe making a difference too. There were little pockets of warmth all over his cold house and they were spreading. The kitchen, of course, overflowed with good smells, cinnamon, apple, peaches, and berries. Every time he walked into the house, he was drawn there by the sound of laughter and the smell of fresh baked pie.

But there were other things too, the cozy red blanket thrown over his leather couch, fresh flowers in every room, including his study. Bittle wasn’t a slob but he tended to inhabit the places he lived in. Rigid order gave way to homey clutter.

Even before Corinne had died, Jack could not remember the last time that his house had felt so like a home. Which of course was why it couldn’t last. This type of happiness could only be fleeting.

He’d been having a rough day from the beginning. The coffee maker in the kitchen decided not to turn on and by the time he decided to give up on it, it was already later than he wanted to be, which turned into him running across campus to the coffee shop/bookstore to make an important meeting with his editor, Mr Smith. He arrived out of breath and nearly ten minutes late and his editor looked at him with such a scathing look of censure that Jack didn’t dare go to the counter and order a cup of coffee even though it was right there.

Mr Smith hated the chapter. Of course he did. It was one of Jack’s favourites so far so of course he had to tear it apart and rebuild it from the ground up. 

Jack went straight to his office after that and stared blankly at his computer screen for several hours before he realized he had never gotten his caffeine fix after all. But he never got coffee at this time of day; it made him jittery and never seemed to mix well with his after dinner cup of tea. He’d also forgotten his lunch on the counter at home and if he wanted something that wasn’t greasy or loaded with sugar, he would have to go to the other end of campus which would cut too far into an already unproductive work day.

By the time he felt like he could justify going home, he had made no progress and he could feel his old demons nipping at his heels.

“Hi Jack,” Bittle grinned brightly as he came in the door to his house. Suddenly it was all too much, the light, the warmth, the happiness when he was destined to be miserable.

“I’ll eat in my office,” Jack said, wincing a little at his own abruptness but also making no effort to apologize or soften his tone.

Bittle drew back a little but whatever he saw in Jack’s face made him nod a little and move to grab one of the plates off the table. “Of course, honey, you look tired. You go have a sit down in your office and I’ll bring you your food.”

Jack didn’t even protest. He sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen, rethinking his entire life plan.

“Here,” Bittle said softly, setting a plate and a steaming tea cup at his elbow. “I put a little charm on the tea. It will stay hot so you can still drink it after dinner and we won’t have to bother you this evening.

Jack felt a little bad, not enough to apologize, but enough to say, “Thanks, Bittle.”

Bittle’s shoulders dropped a whole 2 inches with the release in tension. “Of course, Jack, everyone has a bad day every now and again. I can be a right grizzly bear if you wake me up too early in the morning.”

Jack nodded and picked up his fork. Bittle took that as a dismissal and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him before returning to the kitchen and starting up a stream of chatter to Ronnie.

Jack sighed and tucked into his dinner. He started feeling more human again after just a few bites and feeling rejuvenated, he turned back to his chapter. And this time, he could see his editor’s point. It wasn’t really coherent to someone who didn’t already know a lot about the subject and, since Jack prided himself on being a writer that everyone could read, it did need to be rewritten.

He took bites of Bittle’s excellent lasagna as the flow he’d been searching for all day finally arrived. He took a sip of the tea and could feel the tension draining out of him. It was perfect. It was the right strength with a splash of milk and was as hot as if it was perfectly fresh. 

He got lost in his work. He made good progress too. He was about to hit save and send it back to Mr Smith when he heard the door opening behind him.

“Daddy, look!” Jack turned to see Ronnie in the doorway, ball of lightning cradled in her hands. 

“Euh, _mon ange_ , can you be careful with that? Where’s Bittle?” Jack asked, getting up out of his chair to go toward her but quickly seeing the folly of getting too close.

“Mr Bitty says I’m a progidy at lightning,” Ronnie announced proudly, bouncing the ball between her hands. “I can almost juggle! See?!” She threw it up in the air and caught it.

“I see, but are you sure you should be doing that without Mr Bitty?” Jack asked, watching the ball bounce a little higher.

“I’m fine,” his daughter rolled her eyes at him and threw the ball right up. Jack stood, hand already stretching out to catch it before he thought better of it. Ronnie was startled by his rush toward her and fumbled the catch. The ball fell to the floor and sunk through the carpet. For a few breathless seconds, nothing happened and then all the lights went out.

Jack turned in horror to his completed chapter, only to see all his progress vanish in an instant. And all the satisfaction from dinner, the relaxation from the tea, and shreds of good feeling he had built up in the last few hours disappeared with it.

“What the hell did you do?” he shouted.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ronnie said, in a small voice.

“No, sorry is not going to cut it this time! You destroyed all my work. Everything I’ve done today is lost and it’s your fucking fault.” Jack shouted. “Now what do you have to say for yourself.”

There is a sniffle, and a little whimper. “Want Mr Bitty,” his little girl wept.

“Lord, what’s all the shouting about in here?” Bittle pushed open the door, the flashlight on his phone lighting his way. Ronnie whirled and ran into Bitty. Bitty crouched and gathered her into his arms. “It’s ok, sweetpea. It’s not that bad. We’ll fix it.”

Jack saw red. “This is your fault,” he growled.

“Now hang on a minute,” Bittle started.

“No, you fucking listen to me. You’ve been pushing her too hard, getting her to do too much magic and you’ve got no way to discipline her. My own daughter doesn’t listen to me. She shows huge recklessness when it comes to her magic, and she thinks you’re the fucking authority in this house. Well I won’t stand for it,” Jack raised his voice again. “Get. Out.”

Bittle stood, Ronnie in his arms and Jack felt a pang of guilt when he saw how white Bittle’s face had gone. But his daughter was still clinging to the man fiercely, refusing to even look at her father and words of apology don’t make it past his lips.

“Ronnie, how do you feel about visiting Mr Tater tonight?” Bitty asked, his voice trembling.

“Take my daughter out that door and I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping,” Jack snarled.

Bittle whirled and ran out of the room. Ronnie’s door slammed a moment later and, although Jack listened with his heart in his throat, they did not come back out.

About fifteen minutes later, someone pounded on the front door. “Zimmboni? Let me in.” Tater shouted from outside.

Jack took a deep breath and prepared himself to confront his friend but Bittle was too fast. He was down at the door, letting Tater in before Jack even reached the door. Both of them came back up the stairs and stood in the hallway outside Ronnie’s room.

“You want me rough him up for you?” Tater asked.

“No, nothing like that. Just, can you stay here tonight? Make sure Jack has time to cool down?” Bittle asked.

“For sure. I’m always happy helping you,” Tater replied.

Jack put his forehead to the door and wondered how everything had spiraled so quickly out of control.

Eventually he went back to his desk chair and stared at his dead computer screen. He pulled out his phone and looked at his online cloud drive and of course his chapter was there with all its changes intact. Ronnie was crying in her room and the sound drifted through the walls and hit him like an axe to the heart. He wanted to go to her but Bittle’s voice murmured soothingly and he knew he wasn’t wanted or needed. He scrubbed a hand over his face when he realized his cheeks were wet.

He’s not sure how long he sat there, staring at nothing, but eventually the voices silenced. Doors opened and closed softly and, Jack assumed, everyone settled down to sleep. He wanted out into the hallway and startled as he saw Tater sitting on the floor outside Bitty’s bedroom. Tater said nothing, just looked at him warningly. Jack went into his own bedroom and started packing a bag. Once that was finished, he collapsed onto his bed, still clothed, and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack woke early. It wasn’t an easy awakening. His mouth was dry, his stomach was rumbling, his head hurt, and the memory of the night before made him want to roll himself up in his blanket and stay there for the next week and a half.

He crawled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Tater was curled up, snoring in front of Bittle’s door. He got into the shower and turned it as hot as he could stand it and just stood there until it went cold. Shivering, he washed his hair and soaped his body and got out as quickly as possible.

He had forgotten to bring clothes to the bathroom so he wrapped himself in a towel and went back to his room. Tater was sitting up again and watched him as he walked down the hallway. He dressed quickly and came back out, turning into his daughter’s room.

He packed her a bag too, but he didn’t wake her up. He stood for a moment by her door and breathed deeply for a second before going back into the hallway and standing in front of Tater.

“Can I talk to him?” he asked meekly.

“Will ask,” Tater said. He stood and knocked softly on the door. Bittle peeked out before letting Tater inside. Jack could hear hushed conversation, too quiet to make out any of the words. Eventually Tater came back out and held the door for Jack. “I’m be staying right here,” he growled.

Jack nodded at him and walked in the door. He turned to face Bittle and winced when he saw the red eyes and the watery gaze and the hunched shoulders. Jack opened his mouth to speak but Bittle interrupted him with a shaking voice.

“Jack, what you did was not okay,” Bittle said, not meeting his eyes.

“I know,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean…”

“But you said it,” Bittle interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Jack began.

“I don’t know if that is enough,” Bittle turned away and pulled his suitcase from beside the bed.

Jack’s blood went cold. “Bittle, Eric, please don’t leave.”

“How can I stay, tell me that, Jack? You tore a strip off me last night for DOING MY JOB! Your daughter needs to trust me. She won’t learn to control her magic if she doesn’t feel safe. You’re not a magic user; you don’t know what a teacher/student bond feels like. I can’t continue to teach her if you expect me to remain distant.” Bittle yelled at him.

“I know,” he said, barely able to look Bittle in the eye. “I was in the wrong. I don’t have an excuse. I had a bad day and that put my anxiety into overdrive but I should have done better. I know you don’t have a place to go. Please stay here.”

“I can stay with Tater,” Bittle glared. “He’s already offered.”

A different emotion, one he couldn’t identify, welled up in him. “I’m taking Ronnie to my parents for a break,” he blurted. “I could use a breather, time to get my head on straight. Take this time to figure things out. Stay in this house for now. Maybe you look for another job but...I hope that you can decide to forgive me. Ronnie needs you. I need you...to stay for her.”

Bittle took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay here, just for now. I won’t make any big decisions until y’all get back.”

Jack’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Thank you. And I really am sorry.”

Bittle nodded and Jack turned to go. 

“Have a safe trip,” Bittle said softly before Jack could leave the room. “If Ronnie has trouble, phone me and I’ll try to talk her through her exercises.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Jack said hoarsely.

He left and turned into Ronnie’s room. “Mon choupinette, it’s time to wake up,” he murmured, brushing her tangled hair away from her sticky cheeks.

“Papa?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m here. _Je suis désolé._ I know I scared you,” Jack said, pulling her into his arms.

She went willingly and clung to his neck. “Papa, you scared me,” she accused.

“I know, _mon coeur,_ I know,” Jack said. “Papa lost his temper.” 

“You were mean to Mr Bitty too.” She pulled back to glare at him.

Jack sighed. “I know. I’ve apologized to him too.”

“You made him cry,” Ronnie said, still not quite ready to forgive him for that.

“I did. It was a very bad thing to do and I’m never going to do it again,” Jack promised.

“Okay,” she said, burying her face back in his neck.

“I have some good news,” Jack whispered.

“What?” she asked.

“We’re going to visit Grandmaman and Grandpapa at their house in Montreal,” Jack grinned at her.

“We are?!” Her eyes got huge. The last time they had seen his parents was at the funeral and Jack was trying so hard to hide Ronnie’s out of control magic that they had barely seen her before they had to go home.

“Yes, we are,” Jack said. “I’ve already got everything packed and our flight leaves in three hours.”

“Can Mr Bitty come?” She jumped up in excitement.

“No, Mr Bitty needs a break. He’s going to stay here and have a vacation in our house while we’re gone,” Jack said.

“Can I call him on the phone?” she asked.

“That is up to him,” Jack replied.

Ronnie pulled herself away from her father and ran out of the room. “Mr Bitty!” she shouted as she pounded down the stairs. “Can I phone you while you’re on your vacation?”

Jack heard a much quieter, “of course, sweetpea,” and breathed a sigh of relief before grabbing their bags and heading down the stairs. The kitchen smelled amazing. Jack gaped at all the food on the table. In the few short minutes since Bitty had gone downstairs, he had made bacon, french toast with a fresh blueberry syrup, scrambled eggs with tomato, spinach, and feta, and fresh squeezed orange juice. He was just turning away from the oven with a tray of fresh baked mini pies. Jack inhaled and identified scents of maple and apple, his favourite.

“Bittle, you didn’t have to do this,” Jack began.

“Nonsense,” Bittle dismissed his concern with a flourish of his baking tray. “I couldn’t send you on that plane hungry. Airplane food is terrible.”

“And the mini pies?” Jack asked.

“Some are for snacks on the plane and the rest are for your parents,” Bitty explained.

“Now that you really didn’t have to do,” Jack sighed.

“Ah, well,” Bittle’s cheeks turned a little red. “They just kinda happened and it’s gonna keep happening the whole time you’re gone. I certainly can’t eat it all myself. I’ll probably even outbake Tater’s appetite.”

“Can try,” Tater said from the corner. Jack startled. He hadn’t even noticed the man sitting at the table, he was so focussed on Bittle.

Bittle looked over at Tater fondly. “Come on, you can let them have a few mini pies. These aren’t your favourite anyway.”

Jack sat down and tucked into breakfast. It was delicious as usual. Bittle was perhaps a bit frosty, directing most of his chatter toward Ronnie and Tater and leaving Jack to eat in silence.

When it was time to leave, Bittle hugged Ronnie tight and shed a tear or two, promising to call her every day. He gave Jack a subdued nod of the head and handed off a large tupperware full of mini pies. And then they were off to the airport.

* * *

Bitty heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Jack. He had kept his most positive face on for Ronnie’s sake but part of him was still convinced that Jack was about to start yelling again.

He turned around to slide down the door and buried his face in his knees. A few seconds later, Tater joined him on the floor.

“Jack seem sorry,” Tater observed quietly.

“I know. But I can’t just...Jack has been grouchy before but this anger was completely outta left field. How can I work for him when I don’t know what’s gonna make him blow up like that?” Bitty mumbled into his knees.

“Jack has long, very long fuse. Take much to make him angry. I think he be more careful now,” Tater said. “Am not making excuse for Jack, but he have hard year without Corinne. Anger building for long time. Still wrong. But not normal,” Tater said, wrapping his arm around Bitty’s shoulders. “But enough talking about Jack. What you baking me for being good friend?”

Bitty smiled fondly at Tater. “Give me 20 minutes and you’ll find out.”

* * *

Jack was exhausted by the time he got Ronnie to his parents’ place. It wasn’t that it was a difficult flight. Ronnie had always travelled well and they had plenty of mini pies. The problem was that Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how he could have handled things better. He couldn’t help feeling that he was running away instead of dealing with his outburst head on. 

His turmoil must have shown on his face because, although his parents made much of Ronnie the moment she walked in the door, he didn’t get much more than a brief hug and the handoff of a cold beer before he was sent off to the living room to watch the game with his dad and decompress.

He could faintly hear his daughter telling stories to his mother in the kitchen and he let himself check out. He came back to himself an indeterminate amount of time later when a huge crash sounded from the kitchen. He was on his feet in an instant and running for the kitchen. His mother pressed herself back into the stove, dropped pan of lasagna splattered all over the floor. She was staring, frightened at his daughter. His little girl sat at the table, colouring book open in front of her, and the little ball of light she had summoned to see her work better winked out in front of him.

And Jack was terrified. This was why he had pulled away from them after meeting Corinne. His parents loved him, he was confident of that, but they had never spoken of magic growing up. He hadn’t even known it existed until he had met Corinne. She had told him about some of the prejudice she had faced and he couldn’t take the chance that his parents would be the type to be frightened of things they didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, Maman, this was a bad idea,” Jack said, rushing to Ronnie to gather her up. “We can go,” he promised, even though he was also worried that if he went home now, Bittle would leave for good.

“No, don’t leave,” Maman reached out for him. “I just didn’t know she’d inherited…” she trailed off and held up one hand. A few sparks lazily trailed over her fingers before sinking into her skin and disappearing.

Jack could only gape at her.

“Oh, sweetheart, is this why you pulled away?” Maman came forward and pulled his shocked form into her arms. 

“Corinne said you wouldn’t understand…” Jack whispered.

“She...had magic too?” Maman asked.

“Of course. That’s where Ronnie’s magic came from,” Jack said.

“Right, you never would have had reason to suspect that I was the source,” Maman whispered. She stood and crossed over to the kitchen counter where she put the kettle on. “Bob, can you call out for pizza?” she asked.

Papa nodded and pulled out his cellphone. Maman crouched and began to clean up the lasagna from the floor. Jack rushed to help her and by the time the kettle had boiled, the kitchen floor was back to its pristine state.

Maman poured them all cups of tea, including one that was mostly milk and sugar for Ronnie. Papa took Ronnie out into the living room to drink theirs in front of the TV and Maman and Jack sat at the table.

“You’re probably wondering why I never told you,” Maman started.

“You don’t have to explain,” Jack interrupted.

“But I do,” Maman said. “You deserve to know. Especially now that I know that if I had only told you, perhaps I might have had a relationship with my daughter-in-law and it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to allow me access to my granddaughter.”

Jack flushed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was hard for me to talk about it,” Maman confessed. “And it wasn’t safe. Did Corinne...was she a part of one of the big magic families?”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “She never mentioned anything like that.”

“What was her maiden name?” Maman sipped her tea.

“Dubois,” Jack said.

“Hmm, not a name I’m familiar with,” Maman said. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t have ability but I’m not aware of her heritage.”

“Maman,” Jack began. He didn’t want to interrupt but it seemed like she was stalling.

Of course,” she sighed. “First you should know that my name isn’t Alicia Smith, it’s Alice Campbell. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Jack shook his head.

“Of course not,” Maman continued. “They’re very secretive. I thought Corinne might have warned you. There are two main magic families in the US, the Campbells in the north and the Phelps in the south. There are of course other magic lines, but none with the age and spread of these two families so most smaller lines choose a side based on their geographical location. I was quite a strong witch as a child, exceptional, the strongest witch they’d seen in five generations. They were grooming me to lead after my mother stepped down.” Maman stopped again, sipping at her tea and gazing out the window.

“So what happened?” Jack asked.

“The Phelps happened,” Maman said bitterly. “It was the day before my sixteenth birthday and I was about to have my coming of age ceremony. They came and took me from my home. I’m not even sure how they got to me. But they locked my magic away. They shoved it so deep inside me that I can barely even find it. And they wiped every bit of training I had so I have no tools to rebuild.”

“That’s awful,” Jack whispered.

Maman waved her hand, brushing off his concern. “Oh, at the time it was devastating. I took me a long time to discover any sort of purpose again. But the truth is, I’m happy with where I am. Although at first I was running, I’ve found a home here in Canada. I never would have met and married your father. As the matriarch of the Campbell family, I would have been expected to marry a strong magic user. Your father, bless his heart, does not have a magical bone in his body. And I was worried at first that you would have magic and I would have to trust someone to teach you but you took after your father.”

“But why? Why would they strip you of your magic?” Jack asked.

“The Phelps family doesn’t practice regular succession like the Campbell family does. The current matriarch has been in charge since 1903. So any strong female users have their magic suppressed so they cannot take over the position of matriarch and strong male users are enslaved. They lose all volition of their own and become merely a weapon for the family. The Phelps also take magic purity very seriously so there are fewer stronger magic users being born. We disagree with many of their practices. One of my first acts as Matriarch was meant to be absorbing the Phelps family and overthrowing their matriarch. We were going to allow them their autonomy but help bring them into the modern age,” Maman explained.

“And the Campbells couldn’t do it without you,” Jack realised.

“They could, but not without a lot of casualties on both sides. The Phelps matriarch knew that wasn’t a price we were willing to pay and so she took out the biggest threat,” Maman said.

“But why did you leave? Why change your name?” Jack asked.

“I couldn’t stand the way they looked at me,” Maman replied. “They pitied me for what I had lost, and the fact remained that I had once been powerful. I still would have been forced to marry a strong magic user in hopes that I would pass my power on to my daughter. I didn’t want to put that burden on my children. I could not bear the thought that the same thing might happen to any of them. And like I said, I was allowed to choose my life here. I wouldn’t have Bob or you if I had stayed and the world would be a darker place without you in it.” Maman reached out and stroked Jack’s cheek.

“The Pizza is here!” Ronnie shouted from the living room, effectively killing the moment.

“You’ll visit more often now that you know?” Maman asked, her eyes pleading.

“Of course,” Jack promised before he had an armful of excitable child to deal with.


	8. Chapter 8

The house felt too large almost immediately. Bitty couldn’t believe how quickly he had gotten used to having a child around. Tater helped. His big voice and presence filled the empty spaces when he was there. But he couldn’t be there all day and Bitty found himself spending more and more time trying to bake away the silence. By the time he got a text from Jack two weeks later announcing their imminent return, every possible nook and cranny on the ground floor was full of jars of jam of every imaginable flavour. 

It was only now that they were returning that he could admit to himself how much he had missed them. He missed Ronnie of course. Her energy and excitement filled every room she entered and lingered in her wake. She had a curious mind and an imagination that rivaled his own. He was comfortable admitting that he loved her like she was a little sister or a niece. But he missed Jack too, his dry wit, his unending fountain of facts, his solid presence. He couldn’t quite forget the fight that had caused them to leave, but he was getting to the point that he thought maybe he could forgive Jack and move on.

Ronnie came in first, shrieking his name at the top of her lungs and bowling so hard into his knees she almost knocked him to the floor. “We’re back!” she shouted. “Grandmaman and Grandpapa have a beautiful house and they have a pond in the backyard and in the winter it freezes over and Papa said we could go visit for Christmas and go skating but I asked if you could come next time because I saw the pictures of you skating when you were a kid and you had all those cool medals and I know you would have fun skating and you could teach me to make hot chocolate and sugar cookies with magic and maybe other kinds of cookies too. Do you know how to make a turkey? Do you think I could cook a turkey or would I just make it explode? I bet I could make mashed potatoes explode.”  
“ _mon ange_ , do you think you could take your backpack upstairs for me?” Jack interrupted her.

“Yes, I can do it by myself,” Ronnie said before running for the stairs.

“Slow down!” Bitty and Jack called after her in unison.

“I think she was saving that up the whole flight,” Jack chuckled as she disappeared up the stairs at an only slightly more reasonable pace.

“I don’t mind,” Bitty smiled after her. “I missed her.”

“I missed you too,” Jack said, then blushed beet red.

“Oh...uh...thank you,” Bitty said, kicking himself for making it awkward. “The house felt kinda lonely without y’all.”

“Is that why it looks like a jam factory threw up in here?” Jack asked.

It was Bitty’s turn to blush. “I’m not used to sitting around and taking time off,” he admitted.

“Apparently,” Jack said. “Do you know what you’re going to do with it all?”

“Well, Tater is going to take at least six jars of the blueberry and I think Shitty wanted a dozen jars of the raspberry but I don’t know yet what I’m gonna do with the rest,” Bitty said.

Jack nodded. “Just leave it to me.”

It took a few days for Bitty to find out what Jack meant. He came downstairs one Tuesday morning to find Jack packing up the jam into boxes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Is there any of this that you still have set aside for anyone? Or are there any particular jars you want to keep?” Jack asked.

“Are you just tossing it? I know it’s a lot but I’m sure we can…” Bitty began.

“No, not at all Bittle. I guess I should have run this by you first but I got you a table at the Farmer’s market,” Jack grinned.

“You...you did?” Bitty asked.

The smile fell off Jack’s face. “You’re mad, aren’t you. Look, I’m sorry. I won’t force you to do this. I just wanted to show you that I’m trying and I want to be better.”

Bitty smiled. “No Jack, this is great! It was something I wanted to do before I moved in here but I couldn’t afford the table fee much less the ingredients, and even if I could, I didn’t have the time or the space to put it all together. Thank you.” If Jack hadn’t just picked up a case of jam, Bitty would have hugged him.

“We should get going,” Jack said. “Setup starts soon and I still have a few more cases to move to the car.”

“What about Ronnie?” Bitty asked, moving toward the stairs. “She’s not even up yet. She’s doing pretty well with control but being in a crowd can really divide the focus. I don’t know if she is ready for that.”

“I’m take care of Ronnie today,” a booming voice came from the living room.

“Lord have mercy, Tater, you scared the living daylights out of me,” Bitty whirled around to see the big Russian coming toward him.

Tater wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Must let the world try famous Bitty jam.” He winked.

Bitty laughed and allowed himself to be ushered out to Jack’s car.

The farmer’s market was the most overwhelming experience Bitty had been through in a long time. Jack had thought of everything. He brought a lockbox with a float inside so people could pay with cash and he had gotten one of those credit card machines that could be hooked up to a phone if people wanted to pay by card. The table was covered in a cheery gingham checked tablecloth. There was a sign that said simply, “Bitty’s” that had been impeccably designed by Shitty’s partner, Lardo. There were even a few jars set aside with the loaves of bread Bitty and Ronnie had baked yesterday for people to sample.

Bitty thought he had made a lot of jam but he was still sold out in record time. After he sold the last jar, he turned to Jack. “Now what?” he said.

“We still have at least an hour before the market closes. Want to have a look around with me?” Jack asked.

It was on the tip of Bitty’s tongue to say that he had no intention of taking up more of Jack’s time than he had to, but Jack just looked so hopeful that Bitty found himself nodding. They dropped the cash box off in Jack’s car and headed back to the first stall.

“I didn’t realize you were so into the farmer’s market,” Bitty said after Jack dragged him excitedly to a stall that sold homemade soap.

“Corinne and I used to come every week,” Jack said. Bitty looked at him quickly. Jack had never even mentioned his late wife to him before. Jack himself looked shocked at what had come out of his mouth.

Bitty nodded, trying to think of something to say to acknowledge the meaning of Jack’s words without sounding like he was too curious.

Jack continued before Bitty found the words. “We came here for dates a lot, especially after she became pregnant with Ronnie. She needed to do at least an hour of walking everyday and this was one way she liked to do it. And then, near the end, this was one place she still felt like herself.”

“Jack,” Bitty put his hand on Jack’s arm. Jack leaned into him with his shoulder.

“I don’t think I ever told you what happened,” Jack said after a moment.

“You don’t have to,” Bitty said.

“I want to,” Jack replied. “You should know. It’s not an excuse but it might help you understand.”

Bitty nodded, “one second, honey.” He turned to the booth they were walking past and bought two cups of steaming spiced apple cider. “I prefer to have my serious conversations with a nice hot drink.”

Jack nodded and wrapped his hands around one of the cups, breathing in the scent from the steam. “She was self taught. Everything she knew about magic, she had read in a book or discovered for herself. And she was very talented. She worked as a nurse and she became very talented with healing. But after Ronnie was born she was diagnosed with postpartum depression and given a prescription for antidepressants. I think she would have been fine but she didn’t like how they made her feel. So she tried to heal herself. She’d done that many times before, scrapes, bruises, the flu, even a broken bone. But she had never tried to heal a brain before. It worked at first. Her mood was much better. She seemed like the woman I fell in love with again. But then she started forgetting things. I tried to get her to a doctor but she insisted she could handle everything herself. She would try to heal herself and she would be better for a few days but then she would start forgetting again. It started happening faster. She would get only hours of lucidity before she would try to heal herself again. On her last day, she told me she loved me. She told me she was sorry. She made me promise to take care of her daughter. And then she stopped her own heart.” Jack closed his eyes against a rush of tears.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Bitty said, pulling Jack’s head to rest in the crook of his neck. Jack hunched over and let him. “It must be so hard to be here.”

Jack looked up at him and there was a clarity in his expression that Bitty didn’t recognize. “Yes, but also no. I think maybe I had to come here to finally let her go. What happened to Corinne was tragic but it’s been nearly a year. It’s okay for me to move on.” He leaned forward again and caught Bitty’s lips in a kiss.

Bitty sunk into it for a moment but the taste of salt on Jack’s lips broke through the desire. He pulled away. “Jack, I…” he started but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Bitty ran.


	9. Chapter 9

It started out as a quiet day. Jack left early and without disturbing anyone. Bitty started on breakfast while Ronnie slept in. He was humming along to the music on his phone when a fist crashed through the pane of glass on the back door.

Bitty shouted, bringing his magic to bear, but even before he could blink, there were three big, burly men standing in the kitchen, every one of them brim full of barely suppressed power. And worse, he recognised them.

“George, Henry, Richard? What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” Bitty shouted.

“This is none of your concern,” the three spoke in unison. “We are here for the girl.”

Bitty’s first instinct was to flee upstairs and barricade the two of them in Ronnie’s bedroom, but he knew that turning his back on them was a mistake. “You can’t have her.”

“We are here for the girl,” they repeated.

Bitty held his hands out, willing his magic to just do something but the sick feeling washed over him again, so strong he almost fell. He felt behind himself for something to use as a weapon, but the only things close by were his latest jars of jam. They were a small sacrifice. He picked them up and hurled them at the heads of the three men. Some they dodged, others the allowed to hit and shatter. There was jam everywhere but it did not faze them.

They moved toward the stairs but Bitty was faster. He stood in their way, even though he was trembling so hard his hands were visibly shaking. He braced himself, willing himself not to let them pass. There was no more jam in reach.

“Mr Bitty?” Ronnie spoke from behind him.

“Go back upstairs,” Bitty shouted at her. “Hide!”

But it was already too late. Henry made a gesture with his hand and Bitty felt himself flying through the air. He hit the wall hard and crashed to the floor, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs. Broken glass scraped across his exposed skin as he struggled to pull himself back to standing.

Lightning flashed and thunder crashed as Ronnie screamed. Bitty slammed his eyes shut but bright spots still filled his vision when he opened them again and everything sounded muffled like he was underwater.

When his vision cleared, he could see Ronnie, fighting hard to get free, oddly familiar collar around her neck. There was no more lightning. Bitty flung his arm out toward her. He could feel the heat building under his skin as he reached deep for anything that could possibly save this little girl he loved. His hands began to glow.

George laughed and knelt in front of Bitty. He placed his hand on Bitty’s forehead and he felt a cold emptiness spread from the point of contact all the way down to his toes. He tried to reach his magic but it was too far away and when he tried, it lit his body on fire. With his last bit of strength, he screamed for Jack. He fell into darkness.

_Chaos. Fear. Glimpses of the supply closet. No! He doesn’t want to be back here. He wants to go home._

_Voices. They’re cruel and rough, shouting words Bitty has never heard but somehow knows the meaning of._

_Let me out! He’s screaming. Tears burn his cheeks. Smoke fills his throat. He can’t stop shaking._

_The world is fire, exploding around him in a whirlwind of orange, red, and purple. And then it’s black, black like caves, black like open doors, black like the fear in his mama’s eyes as she pulls him out of the ashes._

_Then, the collar he’s forgotten. Locking him away. Hide, his mama says. You can’t be this. Not here._

_His wrists burning. Blood in his throat. Forget, his mama says._

* * *

Jack was sitting at his desk, just on the verge of being completely immersed in his work when it happened. There was a sharp tug in the center of his chest and a building pressure in his head, then the voice of Bittle, screaming his name, clear as a bell in his ear. He looked around, expecting the man to be standing in his office door but there was no one there. Most of his colleagues hadn’t even arrived for the day yet, so his wing of the university was all but empty.

The voice was gone but the tugging continued and he knew that he needed to get home, right the fuck now. He pulled out his phone as he threw his coat on and called both Shitty and Tater to meet him at the house.

The scene when he arrived nearly sent him to the floor. There was broken glass sprayed all over the kitchen. The acrid smell of burnt scones poured out of the oven in a thick, choking cloud of smoke. Lichtenburg patterns spread across the wooden cupboards like blackened frost. Raspberry and strawberry jam lay in thick red puddles on the floor and at a glance, Jack couldn’t say for certain that it was all jam. Bitty lay in the middle of it all, crumpled in an unconscious heap.

Tater and Shitty entered the house behind him.

“Zimmboni, what happen?” Tater asked. 

“Check him,” Jack shouted, the urge to run upstairs and find Ronnie the only emotion that could keep him from cradling Bitty in his arms. He took the stairs two at a time, screaming for his daughter. Her room looked the way she always left it in the morning, covers rumpled, stuffed animals lying where she had thrown them in her sleep. He looked under the bed and in the closet and in any other cranny she could conceivably fit into. Then he tore into his own room and Bitty’s room, even the bathroom. There was no Ronnie anywhere. He half stumbled down the stairs again to see Bitty limply held by Tater while Shitty wiped the blood off his face. Jack fell to his knees beside Tater.

“Bits?” he called softly before his voice choked in his throat. It felt like decades before Bitty’s eyes fluttered open. 

Bitty winced and groaned, squinting his eyes against the kitchen lights. They flooded with tears when he say Jack. “Jack,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” Jack whispered. “Where’s my daughter?”

Bitty sobbed. “They took her. My cousins. She’s gone.”

“Why?” Jack shouted. Bitty flinched back from him and nestled into Tater’s arms.

Jack winced. “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. But I need to find Ronnie.”

“Phelps,” Bitty gasped. Jack’s hand tightened around Bitty’s wrist. “They’ll take her magic.”

Jack collapsed the rest of the way to the floor, uncaring of the jam now staining his good pants. “We have to get her back.”

“We do,” Bitty said, pulling out of Tater’s arms to stand. “We will, just as soon as I figure out what the hell my mother did to me.” He walked to the counter and pulled a bowl out of one of the cupboards. He pulled a few sprigs of rosemary, sage, and basil from the herb garden on the windowsill and crushed them between his fingers before adding them to the bowl.

“We don’t have time for this,” Jack growled.

“We do,” Bitty glared. “You have no magic, Tater has a level 1 intimidation and Shitty is what? A level 3 psychic?”

Shitty’s eyebrows shot upward on his forehead but he nodded.

“If I’m right, I have another power, level 8 or higher, that my mother suppressed and forced me to forget as a child. If I can unlock it, we have a chance,” Bitty said, turning back to his spell. He pulled a piece of chalk from the pencil holder on the refrigerator and starting drawing symbols on the the counter.

Jack stepped back and watched. It didn’t take long. Bitty added a few more kitchen ingredients to the bowl and held his hand over it, chanting in latin. In moments, two symbols started glowing on each of Bitty’s wrists. He chanted louder, grabbed a match and lit the bowl on fire. He held both his wrists over the flames and screamed as the symbols burnt red, flashed, and then blackened. It took all of Jack’s strength to keep from dragging him away from the fire.

The fire in the bowl burned out with a final green flash and Bitty nearly fell, catching himself on the counter at the last second. Jack did rush toward him then, supporting him over to the table. Bitty sat for a moment before holding out his hand. Cupped in his palm is a small steady flame.

“I didn’t dream it,” he whispered, looking at the flame in awe. 

“Bits…” Jack started. “Ronnie.”

“I know where they will have taken her,” Bitty said, standing up and already steadier on his feet. “But they’ve got a plane for family business so they’ve got quite a head start. I can look and see if there are any direct flights. But we should head to the airport as soon as possible.”

“I’m going to call my parents,” Jack said. “Maybe they can do something.”

Bitty nodded, looking around the kitchen a little helplessly. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know if it will be enough.” 

Jack clasped Bitty’s shoulder briefly as he put his phone to his ear.

“Jack, how lovely to hear from you,” Maman began.

“The Phelps family, they took Ronnie,” Jack interrupted.

“How long ago?” Maman asked, all the former lightness erased from her tone.

“Maybe half an hour,” Jack said.

“Get to the airport. I’ll make some calls,” Maman said before hanging up on him.

“I drive,” said Tater. “Russians drive best.”

Jack didn’t feel like arguing. He ended up in the backseat, Bitty a warm line of comfort against his side, and drifted until they had to pile out at the airport. He looked at his phone again inside the door to see a single text, _Gate D8_ and tickets for Jack and Bitty.

They left Tater and Shitty at security and ran to the gate. A man in a pilot’s uniform greeted them at the door to the plane. “Jack Zimmermann?” he asked.

Jack showed him the email from his mom. He nodded and waved them on to the plane. “We take off in five minutes so try and get settled immediately,” he said as they boarded.

The pit in Jack’s stomach was swallowing him whole. He barely even felt the swoop as the plane took off. If he had been less worried about Ronnie, he might have been more worried about the time he was losing. All he remembered of the flight was Bitty’s warm hand gripping his tight.

A car waited to take them from the airport and this time, Bitty got behind the wheel and drove them to a sprawling southern plantation. He got out and strode confidently up to the front door. A woman opened the door a crack and asked them their business.

“I‘m here to see Izelda,” Bitty barked. “Tell her Dicky Phelps is here.”

“What about your friend?” the woman asked, eying them through the crack in the door.

“He’s with me,” Bitty said.

“I still don’t know if I should let you in,” the woman said stubbornly.

“It’s ok, Felicia. Suzanne is waiting for me inside,” Bitty said.

“Is...is everything alright?” Felicia asked.

“It’s gonna be,” Bitty said. “If any of y’all wanna take off early, today would probably be a good day to do it.”

She nodded and disappeared into the house, leaving the door to swing open behind her.

Bitty took a deep breath and walked into the house. Jack followed him.

He followed Bitty into an old formal sitting room. The room was covered in crochet doilies and fake flowers in gaudy porcelain vases. A few women sat in straight backed chairs around the sides of the room. But the focal point was the old woman in the overstuffed floral armchair on the far wall.

“Suzanne,” the old woman said, holding Bitty’s eye with her sharp gaze. “You didn’t tell me Dicky was coming for a visit.”

“My apologies, Izelda. Dicky didn’t call ahead,” a blonde woman with brown eyes who could be none other than Bitty’s mother spoke from the chair to the right of Izelda’s.

“I’m afraid this isn’t much of a social call,” Bitty said. “I’ve come for the girl.”

Izelda cackled. “The girl? And how are you planning to do that, bake me into submission?”

“If you wish to avoid any unpleasantness, you’ll hand her over now.” Bitty came forward to the centre of the room.

“What do you want with her?” Izelda asked.

“She is the daughter of my friend. She is no threat to you. If you let us leave with her now, you’ll never see her again,” Bitty promised.

“Did you know she’s a Campbell?” Izelda spat.

Bitty flinched but held his ground. “She is no threat to you,” he repeated.

“She’s not just any Campbell, she’s Alice Campbell’s granddaughter and her heir in potential,” Izelda glared. “Her mere existence is a threat. Now leave the way you came before I call my boys to throw you out.”

“No,” Bitty said. “I will not stand idly by and allow you to do what you have done for the last century. I challenge you.”

Izelda laughed. She waved her hand and the two of them were suspended in the air three feet above the floor.

“I have nothing to fear from you,” she scoffed.

Bitty responded with a lance of flame aimed at her chest.

“Suzanne,” Izelda hissed at Bitty’s mother, “You told me you neutered him.”

“I did,” Suzanne replied, eyes wide with fear.

“She tried,” Bitty said, brandishing his wrists at her, burned out runes carved deep into his skin.

The smile dropped from Izelda’s face and she threw a wave of force at Bitty. Jack was thrown against the wall. He blacked out for a moment and when he came to, Bitty was standing his ground, a torrent of flame spiraling toward the woman in the armchair. She was blocking, an invisible shield beating back the fire. And then Bitty began to advance and Izelda’s shield grew weaker. He stepped forward, agony on his face as he summoned every bit of strength he possessed for the battle.

Finally, nothing stood in the way. Bitty’s outstretched hands touched Izelda’s forehead. She screamed as orange fire spread in her veins, burning her from the inside out. Bitty’s arms glowed orange too as the fire no longer went unchecked.

A blur of blonde blocked Bitty from Jack’s view as Suzanne tackled her son away from Izelda’s immolating corpse. The fire died away as Bitty fell, leaving black scorch marks painting the veins in his arms. No one moved as Izelda turned to ash and crumbled to the carpet.

Shouting came from outside the room and Jack pulled himself to his feet, time for him to defend Bitty. But the shouts were not angry, they were confused. And there was one voice that he’d been trying to hear for hours now.

“Let me go! I want my daddy! I want Mr Bitty!” his daughter shrieked from the other room.

The doors to the sitting room fly open and a confused looking burly man stood there with Jack’s baby girl in his arms. She kicked him and finally managed to struggle free, making a beeline for her father. Jack sobbed as she finally landed in his arms. She hugged him so tight he could barely breathe but he’s didn’t care, he was hugging her back just as tightly.

“Is Mr Bitty okay?” she whimpered after a minute or two.

“I don’t know, _mon ange_ ,” Jack whispered. He stood and crossed the room on shaking legs to drop to the floor next to Bitty and Suzanne.

Bitty was completely out of it, eyes rolling wildly until they settled on Jack and Ronnie. He smiled even though his forehead was pinched with pain. “Call your mother. Tell her to come down here,” he said before he passed out.

Jack reached for Bitty’s hand but yanked his hand back at the heat, blisters appearing on his fingertips. On the floor, Bitty started to shake.

Suzanne was on her cellphone moments later. “We need an ambulance at the old Phelps place. Yes, the injuries are of a magical nature. Yes, thank you. I’ll stay on the line. Please hurry.”

Time began to speed up again. It was all Jack could do to keep with it. He was numb as paramedics rushed in, bundled Bitty into a stretcher, and rushed out once more. Mutely, he hurried his little girl into the rental car and followed the ambulance to the hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

Bitty slowly drifted back to consciousness. His mama’s voice murmured quietly at his side. He listened carefully to realise she was reading to him just like she used to. He yawned a little and tried to stretch, but the bolts of pain up his arms stopped his motion.

“Dicky, honey, you’re awake!” Mama’s face hovered above his when he opened his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Bitty asked.

“You think I was just gonna leave you with strangers while you’re in the hospital? Why the very nerve,” Mama said.

“Where are Jack and Ronnie?” Bitty struggled to sit up.

“In the waiting room, most likely,” Mama’s voice hardened. “They tried to get in here but I told them family only.”

“They are my family,” Bitty insisted. “I want to see them.”

Mama rolled her eyes. “If you must. I’m still not certain they didn’t brainwash you.” but she picked up the room phone and called down to reception.

“Mama, you should leave,” Bitty said the moment she hung up.

“I’m not going to just leave. You’re in the hospital. You’re my baby boy!” Suzanne said.

“That’s not what you said the last time I saw you,” Bitty said stubbornly.

“Dicky…” Suzanne pleaded.

She was interrupted by a panting Jack knocking on the door, an unusually subdued Ronnie in his arms and a blonde woman behind him with eyes his exact shade of blue.

“You must be Alice Campbell,” Bitty said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Eric, after what you did, the pleasure is all mine,” Alicia smiled. “But please, I go by Alicia Zimmermann now.”

Bitty nodded at her but she must have been able to tell who he really wanted to speak to.

“Suzanne,” Alicia smiled. “You must be exhausted. I would love to take you to lunch and discuss our path going forward.”

Bitty’s mama opened her mouth to protest but Bitty glared at her until she relented.

“Just go, Mama,” Bitty said. “Let me talk to Jack.”

Suzanne’s shoulders drooped but she allowed Alicia to guide her out the door.

Bitty sighed and held his arms out for Ronnie. She didn’t hesitate before clambering into his lap and squeezing tight. “Thanks, Mr Bitty,” she whispered into his chest.

“Of course, sweetpea,” Bitty held her tight, even though his arms were shaking. “I couldn’t let my favourite girl be kidnapped. I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Jack blurted out.

Bitty felt his face heat. “How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Jack admitted.

“What happened? Did your mother?...”

“Her magic is back, and so is the magic of many of your family members,your mother’s especially,” Jack said. “Maman has taken the leadership of the Campbell family and your mother is now the matriarch of the Phelps family. I know Maman is hoping we’ll be able to be allies from now on.”

“Good,” Bitty slurred and leaned back on his pillow, his eyes falling closed against his will. 

“Grandmaman showed me a new trick,” Ronnie interrupted. Bitty dragged his eyes open to watch as she held her hands out in front of her and formed an arc of crackling electricity between her two palms. “It’s a rainbow!”

“Good work!” Bitty chuckled and touched her hand to feel the flow of her magic. Searing pain shot through his fingertips and up his forearms, whiting out his consciousness in an instant.

When he came back to himself, the weight was gone from his lap and people were rushing around him, poking and prodding him with cold hands, dragging his eyelids open and shining a bright light that made him want to vomit, and pushing cold fire into his veins to stop the burning.

“I’m sorry, Mr Bitty,” Ronnie was screaming from the doorway. Bitty wanted to reach out to her but he was losing his grip on awareness and even the sound of her fear couldn’t drag him out of it.

He drifted for a while, pain a wall keeping him from surfacing, until finally he dragged his eyes open to see an unfamiliar man reading a chart at his bedside and his mama sitting in the chair against the wall, staring at nothing.

“What?” he groaned. “What happened.”

“Oh, Dicky,” Mama was at his side in a moment, brushing his hair from his forehead. “You burned out.”

“I...what?” Bitty asked, shifting to look up at the man who he now saw was wearing a doctor’s coat.

“I’m afraid you are currently suffering from post-magic fatigue disorder,” the doctor said. “It’s quite a severe case. You should eventually make a full recovery but it will take time and work.”

“It’s alright, Dicky. I’ve decided I forgive you for leaving. You can come back. I’ll help you with your recovery,” Mama smiled down at him.

“For leaving? You drove me out! Nothing’s changed you know. I’m still the same person,” Bitty raised his voice, ignoring the twinge in his chest.

“Now, Dicky, don’t be ridiculous. Surely you’ve gotten over your little phase…” Mama implored.

“It’s not a phase. I’m gay. It’s something I know about myself. And I refuse to hide it just to make you more comfortable,” Bitty glared at his mama.

“Well now you’re just being stubborn,” she pouted.

“As much as I hate to say it, I don’t belong here anymore. I’ve found a new home...a new family.”

“That boy...that Campbell?” Mama spits.

“That Zimmermann boy,” Bitty smiles, “and his daughter.”

“Are you...in love with him?” Mama asked.

“I don’t know,” Bitty answered honestly. “We’ve had some rough times. But I care about him and I’m willing to see what happens next. But he’s also not my only friend there. And I am free to be myself. Would you really be okay with me being out of the closet here?”

“Well, there’s no need to flaunt your lifestyle, Dicky,” Mama said.

“I love you, Mama, I really do. And I know you love me, even if you haven’t figured out how to love all of me. I’ve even figured out how to forgive you and move on. But that doesn’t mean I have to willingly put myself back in a position where you can treat me badly,” Bitty said.

“I’m your mother. I know what’s best for you,” Mama protested.

“But don’t you want me to be happy?” Bitty asked, unwanted tears pricking at his eyes.

“I...do,” Mama said slowly. “But you’re sure you’re going to be happy with him?”

“I think so. And I’ll regret it forever if I don’t at least try,” Bitty said, the tears finally hitting him.

Mama sighed but she went to the door and opened it. An exhausted Jack shot up from his seated position outside in the hall.

“Can I see him now?” he asked.

She nodded and let him past her into the room.

“Bits,” Jack said, staggering and catching himself in the doorway in relief. “You’re awake.”

“I’m sorry you were worried about me,” Bitty said.

“Don’t apologize, Bits,” Jack gasped. “You’ve done so much for me and Ronnie this week. I think that’s worth a little worry.” He looked at his feet, a little shy. “Do the doctors know what happened?”

“Oh,” Bitty blushed. “It’s a bit of burnout, probably because I’ve never used so much of my magic at once before. It means my resources are severely depleted and my pathways are, well for a lack of a better word, burnt. They can’t support any magical flow at the moment.”

“Is it permanent?” Jack asked, panic colouring his eyes.

“Oh lord, no, sweetpea,” Bitty hurried to reassure him. “I’m going to be just fine. I’ll have to take it easy for a while, build up gradually to using my magic again. But I should make a full recovery.”

“Good, good,” Jack said, shifting his feet and watching the floor.

“Was there something else you wanted to ask, honey?” Bitty asked, a bubble of laughter rising in his throat.

“Well...do you have to recover here? Or are you coming…?” Jack trailed off.

“Home?” Bitty asked softly.

“Yeah,” Jack said, “to my home, with my daughter. And with me?”

Bitty’s not sure what his face looked like but suddenly Jack was babbling.

“I don’t expect anything romantic. You’re already a part of my daughter’s life. I know I’ve told you that I care about you but we do not have to act on that. You can return in whatever capacity makes you most comfortable.”

“Jack, stop,” Bitty said, interrupting the other man’s flow of words. “I want to come back for your daughter. But I also want to be there for you. I know what we have is new and hasn’t always been the easiest thing to navigate, but I care a lot for you and I want to see where this goes.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Okay! Can I...where do we start?”

Bitty blushed. “Can we start with that kiss? I promise I won’t run away this time.”

Jack nodded and leaned forward, brushing his lips over Bitty’s, not taking any liberties, even though Bitty had the sudden wish that he might. When it was over, he leaned his forehead to Bitty’s sweaty curls and they shared the same air for a breath.

“I won’t break,” Bitty whispered between them.

Jack kissed him again, harder and longer this time. When he broke away, they both gasped for air.

“I should go get my daughter,” Jack murmured as he reluctantly pulled away. “She was very worried that she hurt you.”

“Please,” Bitty said. “I didn’t get a real chance to make sure she was okay.”

Jack nodded and hurried toward the door. He turned back at the door frame. “I think I’m really going to enjoy discovering a future with you, Eric Bittle.”

Bitty could feel his cheeks heating. “Oh hush,” he stammered. But then he added honestly, “me too.”


End file.
